


We'll Be the Next Big Thing

by wasatch_97



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Han Jisung | Han is Whipped, Han Jisung | Han is a Sweetheart, Lee Minho | Lee Know is Whipped, Lee Minho | Lee Know is a Sweetheart, M/M, Mentions of Anxiety, a ton of hand holding, aka minho the fake psychology student, and very oblivious and dramatic, artstudent!jisung, grants, ik i botched them lmao but i needed them to work a certain way, jisung is a fake extrovert, jisung is lowkey and insomniac, jisung makes a pretty big oopsie like half way through this, minho dances, of course, popular!minho, self discovery, student grants, they flirt basically non stop be warned, this is rlly cliche soz, um
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:27:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23381662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasatch_97/pseuds/wasatch_97
Summary: “Jisung, you better have a damn good reason for being late this time.”“Uh…” Jisung mutters as he brainstorms. “Oh! I just met the love of my life. You know those rom-com running late scenes? Well it legit happened to me, so say hello to my future husband!” Jisung pulls the boy out from behind him and pushes him forward. The poor guy looks completely flustered, cheeks red as he holds onto the painting as if it is the only thing grounding him to the earth.Professor Cha raises an eyebrow, addressing the boy. “Does Jisung even know your name?”The boy shakes his head and Jisung pouts. “Aw, come on, that’s not fair!”“Jisung, go sit down,” his professor says, sighing.“Mhm, one minute.” Jisung digs around in his bag and pulling out a big purple marker. He pushes up the boy’s sleeve and scribbles his number across the entirety of his forearm in the plum colored ink.“Don’t forget to call me, babe,” Jisung chirps, capping the pen and grabbing his painting from the boy’s limp arms, walking to his seat.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 86
Kudos: 735
Collections: Cotton fluff Minsung





	We'll Be the Next Big Thing

**Author's Note:**

> y'all I hate this story but I wanted to write and I found like four paragraphs of something I started a long time ago for a different ship and changed it to minsung and wrote like another 18,500 words huehue plz enjoy

Jisung starts awake when his phone alarm chimes, lifting his head wearily. He takes note of the chalky feeling on the entirety of the left side of his face, which he narrows down to be the paint from his palette that he must have fallen asleep on. Groaning in frustration, he shuts off his “you idiot you’re really late” alarm and jumps up. He nearly trips over a pile of clothes as he picks up his painting that is due, managing to set it by the door and out of harms way while he hunts for shoes. He opts for Felix’s pink flip flops as they’re the closest thing in reach. He deems his outfit okay, figuring that he won’t be seeing anyone important - professor included, by now the man is used to Jisung’s, as he puts it, ‘unkempt’ appearance. 

Jisung rushes off, managing to remember to lock the dorm door so Felix won’t go hellish-roommate on him, with his painting clutched under one arm, messenger bag strung haphazardly over his shoulder, and flip flops clacking against the hard floor. He makes the dash from his dorm to the art building in almost no time, as it is a practiced feat by now, and has almost made it to his studio when he rams into someone and is promptly knocked over, his head making a hollow thunking noise against the hallway floor. 

Jisung groans quietly, hand flying up to clutch at his head, over the bruise he’s sure is forming. Opening his eyes he spots a pair of black sneakers in front of him and is reminded of the perpetrator. “Please don’t make this one of those cliche rom-com scenes where the characters are running late and crash into each other and fall in love and all that shit, because I really am running late and—” Jisung looks up. “Goddamnit.”

The boy standing above him looks around his age, maybe a bit older older, with dark hair and equally dark eyes. His face is too pretty, Jisung decides, and is suddenly very aware of his own appearance; stained _Soul Eater_ shirt, rubber duck print pajama bottoms, pink flip flops, and half a paint palette on his face. 

“Are you hurt?” The boy’s voice is nice, Jisung idly thinks, glancing around for his bag and painting which had flown from his hands upon his fall. 

Jisung shifts up onto his hands and knees to make a swipe for his painting and then his bag, stuffing a few papers back in that had escaped. “I’m just perfect. Running on paint fumes and maybe an hour of sleep, I’m late for class with a professor who already hates my guts, and I have half of my paint palette on my face, the good side too. So yeah, just fucking peachy.” He stands up, running his eyes over the boy in front of him, who is, admittedly, very gorgeous in the athletic but not too buff way. 

“Um, okay then?” The boy frowns and Jisung’s heart beats just a tiny bit faster at his lost expression. “I’m sorry for knocking you over.”

“Hmm,” Jisung ponders, cocking his head, “what year are you?” 

“Junior,” the boy replies. 

“Oh, I’m a freshman,” Jisung says. “Hold this,” he thrusts his painting into the boy’s unsuspecting hands. “Carry that for me, I am the one who fell, after all.”

The boy nods, clutching the canvas to his chest as he blindly follows Jisung down the hallway and into the studio. 

“I’m here!” Jisung shouts, flinging the door open, alerting the professor and the students to his presence. The boy seems to duck behind him, shying away from the attention, which Jisung finds adorable. 

Professor Cha turns slowly towards Jisung, a glint in his eyes that makes the boy gulp. “Jisung, you better have a damn good reason for being late this time.”

“Uh…” Jisung mutters as he brainstorms. As much as he likes to stay out of most social situations, he loves annoying this particular teacher in the most outlandish ways. “Oh! I just met the love of my life. You know those rom-com running late scenes? Well it legit happened to me, so say hello to my future husband!” Jisung pulls the boy out from behind him and pushes him forward. The poor guy looks completely flustered, cheeks red as he holds onto the painting as if it is the only thing grounding him to the earth. 

Professor Cha raises an eyebrow, addressing the boy. “Does Jisung even know your name?” 

The boy shakes his head and Jisung pouts. “Aw, come on, that’s not fair!”

“Jisung, go sit down,” his professor says, sighing. 

“Mhm, one minute.” Jisung digs around in his bag and pulling out a big purple marker. He turns towards the boy, grinning wickedly, and the latter visibly pales. Jisung pushes up the boy’s sleeve and scribbles his number across the entirety of his forearm in the plum colored ink. Somewhere deep inside of him Felix’s voice rings out: “Sleep-deprived Jisung is a stupid Jisung.”

“Don’t forget to call me, babe,” Jisung chirps, capping the pen and grabbing his painting from the boy’s limp arms, walking to his seat. 

The whole class cheers. Professor Cha ran a hand over his face and sighs. The boy makes a run for it. 

~

Jisung trudges back to his dorm, yawning, just barely managing to unlock the door before collapsing on the floor, bag falling from his shoulder. “Hey Sung,” Felix greets, stepping over his prone body, a cup of instant ramyeon in his hand. “I take it class was bad today?” 

Jisung tilts his head up to look at his roommate who is now sitting on his desk slurping up noodles. “I think I might drop out.”

Felix rolls his eyes, picking up the hot sauce bottle next to him and squirting the bright red paste onto his noodles. “Yeah, yeah, you say that every day. But Sungie, you honestly do look like shit.”

The boy on the floor groans, rubbing at some of the paint left over on his cheek. “I know. And of course I had to look like this when I ran into possibly the most gorgeous being on the planet.”

Felix’s face lights up. “Do tell!”

Jisung snorts, causing dust to fly up from the floorboards, making him sneeze. “I swear you’re worse than a gossipy middle school girl.”

“Hey! You’re no better.”

Jisung begrudgingly nods. “Anyways, well, I was running late for class. I was almost to the studio when I ran into this guy. Completely knocked me to the ground. But holy shit he was so gorgeous, Lix,” Jisung takes a moment to reminisce, eyes starry. “He was hot but shy at the same time, I don’t know how to put it. Anyways, I made him carry my painting to the studio for me and I may have written my phone number on his entire forearm in front of my whole class.”

Felix chokes on his ramyeon. “You wrote your phone number on his arm?”

Jisung grimly nods. “Stupid, right?”

“Oh my god,” Felix burst into laughter. “I thought it was your number but I wasn’t sure!”

Jisung is lost, “What?”

Felix grins at him. “Minho Lee, junior. He’s a TA for one of my dance classes. Really amazing dancer, actually. He showed up today at practice wearing a long sleeve shirt and refused to change, and he accidentally pushed the sleeves up at one point during the new choreo routine and there was a phone number arm in purple ink.”

“Oh my god,” Jisung moans, beating his head against the floor. “I knew this would come back to haunt me.”

“I’ve got to admit, you have good taste,” Felix says nonchalantly. “Minho Lee is really cute. But just wait until you see him without a shirt on.”

“Felix!” Jisung shrieks, wishing he had something to hurl at the other boy. 

Felix just smiles, putting down his ramyeon and helping Jisung off of the floor. “You should stop by dance practice and see him again.”

Jisung snorts, plunking down on his bed. “I embarrassed him in front of a crap ton of art students and a professor. I doubt he’ll ever want to see me again.”

“If I were him I probably wouldn’t,” Felix admits, throwing his now empty cup into the garbage bin. Jisung growls and hangs off his bed, trying to hit Felix’s leg. “But who knows,” Felix says, an evil glint in his eyes. “Maybe you two will meet again.”

“I swear if you try anything,” Jisung threatens but Felix just waves him off. 

~

“Lix, we may be best friends forever, but don’t ever ask me to brave the campus in the middle of the goddamned night to get over here with two cups of coffee. Because I secretly hate most social situations and I am not in any way brave enough to carry burning liquid through crowds of twenty-year-olds who have too much time on their hands and accordingly stand around and reenact scenes from Shakespeare’s plays while high on who knows what just to come here - and you aren’t Felix.”

Jisung stands awkwardly in the doorway to the first dance studio, illuminated from the back by the flickering hallway lights, a cup of coffee held in each hand as he openly gawks at the only other figure in the room. The one and only junior he had humiliated. And found extremely attractive. 

“The freshman class ended about ten minutes ago,” Minho says, pulling a sweatshirt over his t-shirt.

“Oh,” Jisung murmurs, eyes glazing over as he imagines how he is going to torture his devilish roommate for this. 

“Are you okay?”

Jisung snaps out of his daze, giving the older boy a bright smile. “Oh, yeah, perfect. That’s me! Since Felix isn’t here, you should take this,” Jisung answers, handing one of the coffees to Minho. 

They drift off into a relatively awkward silence, Jisung trying, but failing, to not stare creepily over the rim of his coffee cup at the hot boy in front of him. 

“Ah, well, anyways, this was nice, but I have a roommate to go strangle,” Jisung says once he finishes his drink, tossing it into a trash can. “You’re Minho, right? I mean, I heard through Felix,” he quickly adds. 

Minho nods. “And you’re Jisung.” 

“That would be me,” Jisung replies. “I’m really sorry for the other day, I didn’t mean to embarrass you or anything.”

Minho shrugs, “It’s okay. My roommate gave me some shit about it but nothing major.”

“Sorry,” Jisung says again. “Is there something I can do to make it up to you? I mean, not anything like a trip to Europe or buying a motorcycle because I’m a broke college student, but something manageable?” 

Minho seems to be pondering his words for a second before replying. “How about I just text you when I decide what I want?”

Jisung nods. “That’s cool. Let me give you my number.”

“No, I’ve already got it,” Minho replies, smirking. 

“Oh my god,” Jisung mumbles, cheeks on fire. “I’ve got to go now, bye!” He runs from the dance building to the dorms as fast as he can. 

~

It doesn’t take that long for Minho to text Jisung. It happens the next day, Jisung’s phone buzzing in class, the boy internally hitting himself for leaving it on when his professor shoots him an icy glare. When class is let out Jisung immediately checks his phone, smiling to himself when he reads Minho’s messages. It is just a simple “hey its Minho” and “i know what i want you to do for me,” but they make Jisung’s heart jump nonetheless. 

Jisung replies with “wanna meet up and tell me?” and Minho responds with a time and address. Jisung books it back to his dorm, portfolio bouncing off his hip uncomfortably every time he takes a step. “Felix!” he shouts, barging into their room and immediately screeching and covering his eyes when he sees his roommate pressed up against the wall by Hyunjin, their neighbor, the boys kissing. “Gross! Go away!” Jisung shrieks, blindly throwing down his bag and portfolio, eyes shut tightly. 

“Okay, Jisung, everything’s PG,” Felix says, sounding rather disgruntled. 

Jisung opens one eye, and seeing that the two boys are now a few feet apart, though Hyunjin is trying to tame his hair, he relaxes. “So, um, you two are finally together?” 

Felix blushes, which is rare for his rather obnoxious friend, and Hyunjin nods. “Sorry for not giving you a heads up that Jin was coming over,” Felix says, Jisung’s nose scrunching in disgust. 

“I hate to break this up, but I need your help, Lix,” Jisung pleads. “Minho said he wants to meet and I don’t know what to wear.” 

“Wait, you’re going out with Minho Lee?” Hyunjin butts in, eyes wide. “The Minho Lee? The dance god of the school?”

“He’s the what now?” Jisung asks, confused. “And it’s not a date. I owe him and he wants to get even.” 

Hyunjin shrugs. “Minho Lee never goes out with anyone. He’s a loner. But a fantastic dancer. I’ve never seen anyone so talented and I’ve been dancing for years.” 

“Exactly why this isn’t a date,” Jisung says. “I didn’t know he was so good, though.” 

“I told you,” Felix adds. “He’s amazing. And really nice, once he warms up to you. His best friend and roommate is Changbin Seo, you know, the rapper?” 

“A talented bunch,” Jisung sighs. “Now I’m going to be embarrassed. I have no skills.” 

“You’re an art genius,” Felix groans. “Don’t start, you know you’re super skilled.” 

Jisung rolls his eyes. “Anyways, I have an hour until he wants to meet up. Can you help me find something to wear?” 

“So you do want to impress him,” Felix snickers, whining when a shirt hits his face. 

~

Jisung sighs, fiddling with one of the bracelets around his wrist as he stands outside of the lecture hall where Minho told him to wait. He spots a bit of dried acrylic between his thumb and forefinger and is in the midst of rubbing it off when a cough catches his attention. 

“Hey,” Minho greets when Jisung’s head shoots up, hands dropping to his sides. “Were you waiting long?” 

Jisung shakes his head. “Nah. Got here maybe five minutes ago.” 

“Cool,” Minho responds, “want to get out of here?” 

“Yes please,” Jisung grins. Minho smiles back, although muted, and gestures for Jisung to follow him. “Where are we going? Or, what did you decide you would like me to do for you?” Jisung asks in quick succession, falling into step with the older boy. 

“You’ll see,” Minho answers, chuckling when Jisung’s face morphs into a pout. “We have to take the bus to get there, though. And you’re paying.” 

Jisung whines but agrees easily, worrying his bottom lip until it turns red as they wait at the bus stop. “You major in dance, right? My roommate Felix and my friend, well he’s actually Felix’s boyfriend,” Minho rolls his eyes and Jisung cuts himself off. “Anyways, they’re both dance majors as well. They say you’re great. Like Hyunjin called you a god or something, I suppose that’s high praise?” 

Minho lifts an eyebrow. “You talk a lot.” 

Jisung blushes, fiddling with his bracelets. “Um, yeah. When I’m nervous. Not that I’m nervous! I’m really chill, nothing to do with deeply rooted anxiety. Y’know?” 

“I really don’t know,” Minho says, a hint of a smile on his lips, stuffing his hands in his back pockets. “But yes, I major in dance. Would it be conceited to say I’m good at it?” 

Jisung tilts his head, considering. “I suppose not, given that you seem aware of your qualities. I don’t think it’s bad to be proud of something you enjoy and are good at.” 

Minho blinks, glancing over at Jisung. “That was the most intelligent thing I’ve heard you say.” 

Jisung flushes furiously, grimacing. “Hey! I’m intelligent, you’ve just spent a grand total of a few minutes with me.” 

“My friend slash roommate Changbin knows a guy, Seungmin? I believe,” Minho squints as he tries to recall the name. “He’s apparently in your year and studying fine arts.” 

“Oh, Seungmin,” Jisung hums. “He’s in one of my classes, yeah. He doesn’t seem to like people very much, so I haven’t talked to him outside of class. What about him?” 

“Well, I heard from Changbin that he thinks you’re the best artist in your year.” 

Jisung’s eyes widen as he fully turns to stare up at Minho. “R-Really? He thinks I’m the best?” 

Minho shrugs. “That’s what I heard. Would you call yourself the best?” 

Jisung shakes his head immediately. “No. No way. There’s so many amazing artists in my year, I’m still just fumbling around with a pencil.” 

Minho hums, brow furrowed. “Would you say you’re good at what you do?” 

Jisung pauses in fiddling with his coat sleeve. “No, sure there’s certain things I like about my style or certain projects I enjoy, but no. I’m still developing and learning. I’m very far from good.” 

“You’re sincere,” Minho says, contemplative. “Some people would say they’re not good at what they do to get attention. But you’re sincere.” 

“Are you really picking apart my brain?” Jisung giggles, but complies with Minho’s words. “I suppose in a way I just see myself as the person who started drawing and painting back in elementary school. I, I guess I had it a bit rough? I mean, my parents didn’t expect me to become an arts major. Didn’t accept a lot of things about me,” he mutters under his breath.

“So it’s a confidence thing?” Minho asks, glancing over at Jisung. 

“I - um,” Jisung is cut off, thankfully because he doesn’t know what to say, when the bus arrives. He files on first, paying with some coins before making his way to the back, plopping down into a seat beside a window, Minho sitting next to him. “Will you tell me where we’re going now?” 

“The arcade,” Minho replies. “You’re going to have to pay until I win something out of those claw machines.” 

“Are you serious,” Jisung groans, “those games are rigged! I’m gonna become poor and be kicked out of college. Thanks, Minho.” 

Minho chuckles. “You suggested this.” 

“So, how’d you know you wanted to become a dancer?” Jisung asks, diligently feeding the machine coins as Minho repeatedly fails at picking up stuffed animals with the claw, cursing softly under his breath.

“I’ve just always loved it,” Minho replies, focused on a bear he finally picks up. “I saw some guys busking on the street when I was little and thought it was amazing. Since then it’s all I’ve really wanted to do.” 

“That’s incredible,” Jisung says, giggling when Minho misses the chute and the bear falls back into the mass of other stuffies. He slides a coin into the slot, letting Minho continue on. “It’s obvious how much you care about dancing. You’re a person with a lot of drive.” 

“Yeah, I suppose so,” Minho sighs. “I’m just not sure where my degree will be able to take me.” 

Jisung moves, almost unknowingly, to place a hand over Minho’s, stopping him from controlling the claw. Minho glances up, eyebrows raised. “Your degree is a piece of paper,” Jisung says, words tumbling from his mouth. “What matters, what will take you places, is what you believe you can do.” 

Minho straightens up, letting the controls go, Jisung’s hand falling from his. “You have faith in other people’s talents, but not your own.” 

Jisung looks down, suddenly feeling small. “I’ve never seen what I do, my traits, as something that matters. To other people, that is.” 

“It’s your turn.” 

Jisung glances up, confused. “Huh?” 

Minho gestures at the claw machine. “It’s your turn.” 

“But this isn’t how this repayment thing works,” Jisung whines, even as Minho shows him how to use the controls. 

Minho feeds the machine a coin. “You can do it, Jisung.” 

Jisung grimaces but fiddles with the controls, lowering the claw and hitting a few stuffed animals before closing it around a small grey squirrel. “C’mon,” he breathes, fully engrossed, as he carefully lifts the animal up and pulls the levers to the left, inching the claw towards the chute. He hisses when the squirrel almost falls, tense as the final inches are passed and then he’s finally dropping the squirrel into the chute. 

“Oh my god!” Jisung cries, turning to Minho, who is smiling back at him. “I did it! I beat a rigged game!” 

“I knew you could - oh,” Minho’s eyes widen when Jisung crashes into his chest, arms flung around his shoulders, hugging him tightly. 

“Thanks,” Jisung whispers when Minho’s hands find his waist, “for telling me I could do it. But it was all luck, that’s what it is with those games.” 

“Um, excuse me?” 

Jisung turns around, smiling at a little girl who had addressed them. “Hi! What’s your name?” 

“Hana,” the girl replies, throwing a look over her shoulder at a woman who seems to be her mom. “I was wondering how you beat the claw game. I’ve never been able to do it.” 

Jisung crouches down to be at eye level. “You have to believe you can do it, have a happy feeling in your heart. And then with a little luck,” he reaches to the side, opening the flap at the bottom of the machine to pull out the squirrel, “you can win the game.” 

He presses the stuffie into her hands, smiling at her astounded expression. “Wait, um,” she glances at the fluffy squirrel in her hands. 

“Keep it,” Jisung grins. “Maybe it’ll bring you luck.” 

“Really?” the girl asks, eyes bright. “I can really keep it?” 

“Yes,” Jisung replies, patting her small shoulder. “Now, go have a fun night.” 

Jisung stands up, about to turn back to Minho, when the girl calls out to him. “What’s your name?” 

“Jisung,” he replies. “I’m Jisung.” 

“Then I’m naming the squirrel Jisung too!” she chirps. “Thank you so much!” 

“See,” Minho says when the girl and her mother have walked away. “Maybe it was luck that won you the game, but it was your empathy that made it worth it.” 

Jisung blinks at him. “Minho?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Let’s go get ice cream, on me.” 

“Your personality is so different from when I first met you,” Jisung says, licking his vanilla ice cream as they walk side by side through the streets, mindlessly wandering and talking about everything and nothing. Minho is surprisingly easy to talk to, he’s found, and is funny and sweet under his indifferent exterior.

“Well, when we ran into each other in the hallway I was really startled. Um,” Minho trails off, pink rushing to his cheeks as Jisung prods at his hand to continue. “I don’t really go by the art wing of the school, uh, not since I modeled for a class back last year.” 

“You modeled?” Jisung shrieks, eyes bulging and almost dropping his ice cream. “Oh my god, oh my god!” 

“It was for Cha’s class too,” Minho adds, wincing as Jisung screeches. 

“I can’t believe you were a live model! We had to have this crusty old man for our live lesson, I would kill to be able to draw you,” Jisung whines. 

“I mean, you could?” Minho says, glancing over at Jisung. 

Jisung stares up at him, wide eyed. “Really? You would let me draw you?” 

“I mean, it sucks that I wouldn’t get paid, but yeah, you can draw me. Plus I want to see your apparent brilliant art skills at work.” 

Jisung blushes. “That would be amazing, Minho.” 

“I’ll even take off my shirt for you for free,” Minho chuckles, bumping shoulders with Jisung. 

“I- Minho!” Jisung whines. “I don’t need a nude model or anything, what the hell! Just your face, body shape.” 

“Okay, I’m glad,” Minho laughs. “Like, I wouldn’t mind the shirt, that’s what the class asked for.” 

Jisung does drop his ice cream that time, not even looking at the vanilla that smears across his converse. “You modeled for a class of students _without a shirt on_?” 

Minho shrugs, taking a bite of his ice cream cone. “It paid well.” 

Jisung groans, “You don’t need to take off your shirt to model for me.” 

“I heard a ‘need,’” Minho teases, Jisung hiding his face in his hands. “You’re cute when you’re embarrassed, Jisung.” 

“I’m not, I’m just startled,” Jisung whines, peeking out from between his fingers. “Why’re you looking at me like that?” 

Minho smiles, shaking his head. “You’re honestly really adorable.” 

Jisung lets out a strangled noise, squeezing his eyes shut. “Let’s just go, okay? Um, do you want to walk around a bit longer? Maybe I can find something else that has a base ingredient of sugar.” 

Minho frowns. “We’re literally eating ice cream. Well actually I am, yours is on the pavement.” Jisung huffs, letting his hands fall from his face. “How much more sugar can you take? You already don’t look like you sleep.” 

“I’m an arts student,” Jisung says, all seriousness, “I never sleep.” 

Minho laughs, chucking the wrappers of his ice cream cone into a garbage bin to the side of the sidewalk. “Fair enough.” 

~

“How was it?” Felix asks when Jisung drags himself out of bed the next morning to munch on some cheerios straight from the box. “Your date with Minho Lee? You got home late last night.” 

“It wasn’t a date,” Jisung groans, falling backwards onto his bed. “He was just really nice, and I don’t know, are you sure he’s not a psychology student?” 

Felix shakes his head, typing away at his laptop. “Nah, he’s a dancer.” 

“Lix, do you think I’m empathetic?” 

Felix glances up to meet Jisung’s worried eyes. “What do you mean, Sung? You’re single handedly the most compassionate and kind person I know! You gave up first prize in that watercolor competition because you thought another student had developed more than you. On Valentine’s Day you give everyone you see carnations and you always let other people have the seat on the bus. You cried one time when we were younger because a random classmate of ours didn’t get a turn on the swing at recess. And that’s just some of the things you do or feel for people you don’t even know.” 

“I guess I never thought about it,” Jisung murmurs. “I just never noticed that I do that stuff. It’s just part of me, y’know?” 

“What brought this all on?” Felix pushes, setting his laptop aside.

“Minho,” Jisung replies. “I feel like he was trying to teach me about myself the whole night.”

Felix tilts his head. “You could talk to him about it.” 

Jisung looks at him weirdly but pulls out his phone, a surge of hope in his chest that he isn’t the only one who doesn’t want the previous night to be a one time thing. 

~

“What was all of that talk the other night? About me and my talents,” Jisung asks, hands wrapped around his coffee as he and Minho walk through campus. It’s cold outside, golden leaves falling from the trees overhead onto the path, a sign of the impending winter. 

“Self reflection, I guess. My psych elective is rubbing off on me I guess.” 

“So you do take psychology!” Jisung says, blushing under Minho’s questioning gaze. “Anyways. You confuse me. I don’t like it.”

Minho laughs, fixing the sleeve on his coffee cup. “Do I now.”

Jisung sighs, raising the cup to his lips. “I have to go soon, class.” He glances over at Minho, committing his profile to memory. 

“It was nice seeing you again.” Minho meets his eyes, reaching forward to press Jisung’s glasses further up the bridge of his nose, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Cute glasses.” 

Jisung blushes, digging his chin into the collar of his hoodie when Minho pulls his hand away. “Thanks for the coffee. I needed it.”

“How much sleep did you get?” Minho asks, sipping his own drink. 

“Didn’t have time,” Jisung shrugs, “I have a project due today and hadn’t finished it.”

Minho glares at him. “But you came to walk around with me when you could be sleeping?” Jisung hums a yes. “Idiot.”

Pouting, Jisung tosses his empty cup into a trash bin on the side of the path. “Don’t judge me.”

Minho shakes his head, smiling. “Never.”

Jisung giggles, bumping shoulders with Minho. “I’ll see you around?” 

“Yeah,” Minho nods, reaching out to fix the strap of Jisung’s bag more securely over his shoulder. “Good luck.” 

“Thank you,” Jisung whispers, cheeks turning red. “Bye, Minho.” 

“Bye, Jisung.”

~

The news that Minho Lee has been spending time with a fine arts nerd spreads quickly. Jisung isn’t quite sure how, but by the end of the day he’s heard Minho’s name in the same sentence with “art nobody” or “that geeky freshman” at least ten times. It stings that the whole campus seems to think he’s a gold-digger, grappling for Minho’s attention, and it makes him want to curl up in bed and never come out. 

Felix proves himself to be an amazing friend when he comes back to the dorm to find Jisung collapsed on his bed, still fully dressed. He pulls off Jisung’s shoes and then cuddles his near-twin, calling in reinforcements, Hyunjin, who brings wings and fries. Neither one of them mentions the rumors and the gossip, but it’s there, hanging heavy in the air. 

~

“Hey, Felix, right?”

Felix looks up at _the_ Minho Lee, shock running through him. Through the whole beginning of the year Minho has only come up to him a few times to help with a move, and never to talk. “Yeah?” 

“You’re Jisung’s roommate, or so he told me, and he hasn’t messaged me back in a while and I was wondering if he’s okay?”

Felix holds back a laugh, of course, Jisung. “He’s not really up for seeing anyone right now,” he responds, watching disappointment flicker through Minho’s eyes. “Sorry.”

Minho hums, thanking him and turning away. Sighing, Felix calls him back, praying that Jisung won’t kill him. “If you really want to find him check the roof.”

Minho blinks, shocked. “What?”

Felix snorts at his expression. “When he’s upset he goes to the roof of the business building. Use the south stairwell.”

Minho nods, running a hand through his hair. “Thanks, Felix.”

“No problem,” Felix replies, “just respect him if he says he doesn’t want company, ‘kay?” 

Minho nods and Felix smiles to himself. 

~

Jisung sniffles, hands shaking as he touches the wrinkled and smudged drawing. Ruined. All because he’s a massive klutz who doesn’t see rain puddles until he’s dropped his portfolio in them. 

“Hey, Jisung?”

Jisung slams his sketchbook closed, looking behind him. To his surprise, Minho is walking across the flat roof, his face pale. “Minho? What are you doing up here?”

Minho sinks onto the stack of crates beside Jisung, looking sick. “You didn’t reply so I asked your friend Felix where you were. I can leave if you want.”

“No - no it’s fine, but are you afraid of heights? You look sick,” Jisung asks, concerned. 

Minho nods, hands shaking. “Unfortunately.”

Jisung, driven by a force unknown to him, grabs his hands. They look at each other in shock, Jisung’s cheeks growing red. “I - um, just you don’t have anything to worry about. You’re safe.”

Minho nods, staring at him. “I know. But what about you? Why are you up here? Felix said you come up here when you’re upset?”

Jisung chews on his lip, “Yeah. I’ve just had a sucky few hours.”

Minho hums quietly. “Can I ask what happened?”

Jisung takes a deep breath, hitting himself for actually doing this. But his need for comfort outweighs the anxiety Minho brings. “I accidentally fucked up a portrait piece that was due today. My prof is giving me an extension, she said I have until five to finish a new drawing or I get marked off. So basically I’m screwed.”

“Fuck,” Minho frowns, “what is it you have to do? Is there a chance you could finish a new one?”

Jisung pushes his glasses up his nose, “It’s a charcoal portrait, I used Lix as a model for the original but I don’t have someone who will sit for a little bit, obviously. I have everything I need, just not a human.”

Minho blinks, a smile tugging at his lips. “Are you serious?”

Jisung looks at him with a frown, “What?”

“The other day I said I would model for you some time. I guess now is that time.”

“Are _you_ serious?” Minho nods and Jisung grins, letting go of his hands and throwing his arms around Minho’s neck. “Fuck, you’re my savior!”

Minho laughs, holding Jisung’s waist. Warmth fills Jisung’s chest and he hides his face against Minho’s shoulder. “No problem. But you should probably start.”

Jisung pulls back, nodding. “Do you want to go find a studio? It’ll be more comfortable since the whole heights thing. Plus it’s a bit chilly up here.”

Minho shrugs his shoulders, “It’s actually pretty nice here. I don’t mind staying.”

“I love autumn, even the cold.” Minho hums in agreement as Jisung digs through his bag, coming back with his phone and box of charcoal. “I’m gonna take a picture of you first, so in case you have to leave or something I’ll have the right lighting.” 

“If you wanted a picture of me, Jisungie, you could have asked sooner,” he teases. 

Jisung blushes and drops his phone, making Minho laugh. “Shut up.”

Over an hour later Jisung finishes, Minho peering over his shoulder at the drawing. “So do I get paid for modeling?” he asks, teasing. Jisung pouts, reaching forward and wiping his thumb across Minho’s cheek, leaving a black smear. Minho’s mouth drops open as Jisung giggles, shrieking when Minho rubs his fingers in the dust of the box, reaching out to attack him. 

“You’ll have to catch me!” Jisung stands up and dances out of reach. Minho laughs, face bright, and Jisung’s heart pounds double-time. He chases Jisung across the roof, Jisung screeching when he finally catches up and wraps his arms around Jisung’s waist, spinning him around, the younger boy beating at his forearms while they both laugh hysterically. 

“Fine! You win!” Jisung is wobbling when Minho sets him back on the ground, turning to face the older boy with a fake pout. “You’re evil.” Minho rubs his pointer finger over Jisung’s nose, laughing as he goes cross-eyed to see the streak of black. “Hey! So evil!”

Minho smiles, using his right hand, his non-charcoal covered hand to brush Jisung’s overgrown bangs from his eyes, leaving the boy burning red. “I know.”

Jisung smiles, taking his hand. “You’re left handed.”

Minho nods, “Yeah, originally. I’m ambidextrous now, it’s a right-handed world.”

Jisung presses their palms together, seeing his hand is a tiny bit smaller than Minho’s. “Your rings are cold.” 

Minho rolls his eyes at Jisung’s words, tilting his hand just slightly so that his fingers fall between Jisung’s, linking together. Jisung feels himself blushing red, looking up to meet Minho’s eyes who is already staring down at him. “Is this okay?”

Jisung nods, falling helplessly into his dark eyes. “Yes.”

“You should go turn in the portrait,” Minho says, voice soft. “I’ll walk with you.”

“Okay.” Jisung smiles, letting Minho tug him back to the boxes, helping Jisung clean up his pencils but never letting go of his hand. “Thank you,” Jisung whispers as they are walking down the stairs, “I owe you again.”

Minho shakes his head, squeezing his hand. “You don’t owe me anything, Sungie. I’m glad I could help you.”

“Why are you being so good to me? We haven’t even known each other for much more than a week,” Jisung mumbles, frowning at the ground. 

“Because I want to know you,” Minho replies, swinging their hands between them. 

Jisung hums, pulling Minho through the main doors and to the art wing, climbing the stairs to the second floor. “Wait here,” he says, pouting a little as he pulls his hand away when they stop in front of his classroom’s first door. “I’ll be like two seconds.”

Minho nods, leaning against the wall. “Good luck.”

When Jisung walks back out he can’t help but smile at seeing Minho who is playing on his phone, humming a tune to himself. “You didn’t leave.”

Minho looks up, shoving his phone into his pocket. “I'm offended you think I would.”

Jisung smiles, skipping over and tucking himself into Minho’s side, feeling so safe when Minho chuckles and wraps his arm around Jisung’s waist. As they head down the hallway Minho asks. “So?”

Giddy from Minho’s acceptance of his skinship, he plays with the strap of his bag going across his chest. “She said she’s glad I finished in time and that she was really happy to see that I used a model other than Felix or Hyunjin.”

“Glad I could be of service,” Minho says, poking Jisung’s side. 

Jisung giggles, almost tripping on the stairs down. “For what it’s worth, I really liked drawing you.”

Minho chuckles, patting Jisung’s hip and then pulling away to open the door for him. “Hey, want to get dinner or something?”

Jisung pouts, staring up at Minho. “I can’t do tonight, I’m sorry.”

Disappointment flashes across Minho’s face. “It’s okay, maybe another time.”

“Yeah,” Jisung smiles, “I’ll text you.”

~

“I’m glad you actually remembered,” Felix says, watching Jisung pull a sweater over his head.

“I don’t want to go on this date,” Jisung says, fidgeting with his sleeves and then moving on to tug at the fabric. “I look so weird in this too.”

Felix purses his lips, adjusting the neckline of his sweater. “Do you not want to go because of Minho Lee? And you think you look weird because all you wear are stained clothes.”

Jisung snorts but his heart burns. “No, I just don’t want to date and hey! My fashion is fine.”

“Just try it,” Felix smiles, “and you look cute.”

Jisung stares at his reflection. He’s wearing a baggy grey knit sweater and black jeans, dark combat boots and a few necklaces. “Isn’t the eyeliner a bit much?”

“Nah,” Felix replies. “Don’t worry too much about this all, Sung, even if you don’t like Chan you’ll get free food.”

Jisung huffs out a laugh, “You’re terrible.”

Chan turns out to be a nice guy. He’s an economics major with a minor in music production. He likes to talk but lets Jisung talk too, and is all around really sweet. But he’s also one of the more popular seniors and he gets stopped by almost every person they pass to say hi. Jisung can’t help but feel miniscule next to the guy, and that paired with the unfamiliarity of his clothes makes his anxiety spike, keeping him on edge. 

They go out for sushi and have a fun time, laughing together over funny stories. Jisung grows more and more relaxed, but all he can really feel for Chan is friendship. 

“It’s okay, I feel that way too,” Chan says when Jisung brings it up. “But hey, I’d like to be friends anyhow.” 

When Chan is walking Jisung home, half-way back to Jisung’s dorm they run into Minho. 

Minho looks shocked at seeing them together, and something flashes through his eyes that Jisung can’t quite place. There’s tension in the air, too. So much that Jisung feels like he’s drowning. “Hi, Minho,” Jisung greets, smiling up at him. 

“Hey.” Minho glances from Jisung to Chan, nodding at the senior. “You look good,” Minho mutters, smiling crookedly at Jisung. 

“Thanks,” Jisung whispers, chewing on his bottom lip.

“Have a nice,” Minho gestures hurriedly at the two of them, cringing at his own actions. “I’ll see you around.” 

Chan hums quietly when Minho’s form is disappearing in the distance. “Someone has a crush, huh.” 

“No, shut up,” Jisung hisses. 

“I didn’t mean you,” Chan teases, laughing when Jisung swats his shoulder. “But really, I can see it. You’d be cute together. And aren’t there a bunch of rumors flying around about you guys?” 

“Don’t remind me,” Jisung sighs. “Anyways, thanks for tonight, it was fun.” 

~

[Minho] Hey  
[Minho] I hope you had a good time with Chan :)  
[Minho] can I cash in my request for a dinner? 

[Jisung] oh hi i just got out of class c:  
[Jisung] it was okay,,, felix set the whole thing up so yeah  
[Jisung] and yeah im free tnight!! where do u wanna go? 

[Minho] pizza? 

[Jisung] yess plz 

[Minho] awesome  
[Minho] I can pick you up at your dorm  
[Minho] six work? 

[Jisung] make it 7 i have prof cha later today & i need a nap and a shower after

[Minho] lol okay  
[Minho] seven it is

[Jisung] thx minho ur the best <3

[Minho] I know ;) 

[Jisung] :P

“Minho Lee is standing outside the dorm building,” Hyunjin says from where he’s staring out the window. 

“Your obsession with him is creepy,” Jisung says, tugging a sweater over his head. “Do I look okay?” 

“You look really good, Sungie,” Felix says, looking him up and down. Jisung’s wearing his favorite ripped jeans and vans, the ones he had painted himself senior year during his studio ghibli phase. His sweater is dark blue and super soft, and the look is completed with silver earrings that hit his jaw when he moves his head. “You look like yourself.” 

“With Minho it doesn’t feel like I have to be anyone but me,” Jisung says offhandedly, grabbing his phone. His hand stalls midair as the implications of his words hit him. “Fuck.” 

“Sungie?” Both Hyunjin and Felix are looking at him worriedly. 

“Is this supposed to be a date?” Jisung whispers, sitting down on the edge of his bed. “Is me wondering that mean that I like him? Oh fuck, I like him.” 

“Hey, Jisung, you need to breathe,” Felix says, sitting down next to him and rubbing his arm. “You and Minho are going out to have dinner, that’s all. Take one step at a time.” 

“Yeah,” Jisung feels panic tingling in his fingertips. “Yeah, dinner. Okay.” 

“Are you ready?” Hyunjin asks, helping him up when he nods. “Have fun, Sungie.” 

“Thanks guys,” Jisung mumbles, stumbling into his easel and dragging his elbow through a swatch of red paint. “Fuck!” 

“Do you need to change?” Felix winces as Jisung inspects his sweater, pouting. 

“No, it’ll dry fast. And I would’ve managed to get this covered in paint at some point in my life anyhow,” Jisung says, shrugging. “Thanks, guys.” 

Minho is pacing in front of the building when Jisung finally comes out. Jisung can’t help but giggle at his nervous expression which catches his attention. 

“Jisung?”

“Hi, sorry I’m late,” Jisung says, walking to Minho and smiling up at him. “I hope you weren’t waiting too long.” 

“It’s fine,” Minho reassures him. “Are you ready to go?” Jisung nods and Minho goes to touch Jisung’s elbow. “Hey, Ji?” 

Jisung’s eyes widen at seeing Minho’s hand covered in red. “Oh my god, I thought it was fast-drying paint, I’m so sorry.” He grabs Minho’s wrist, pulling up the hem of his sweater to rub the paint off of his hand. 

“Uhm, Jisung, why are you using your sweater?” Minho asks, sounding out of breath. 

“I don’t really care about my clothes, I mean nothing I own is expensive…” his eyes drop to the expanse of skin he’s shown from pulling up his shirt. He quickly drops Minho’s hand, smoothing his sweater back down over his stomach, blushing furiously. “Forget this, you can wash your hands at the restaurant.” He grabs Minho’s hand, tugging him along. 

“What about your hand now?” Minho teases, falling into step beside him. 

“I’ll manage,” Jisung retorts, knocking their shoulders together. The paint between their palms is sticky but Jisung finds holding Minho’s hand comforting all the same. “This is off to a great start, don’t you think?” 

Minho hums quietly, “Yeah. It is.” 

Jisung blushes at the honesty in his voice. “Shut up.” 

“So, why orange?” Minho asks when they’re sitting in the restaurant. He reaches across the table, fiddling with a strand of Jisung’s hair. 

“Mm, Felix and I like dying our hair, and we put a bunch of colors into this online wheel thing and I got orange.” He swats at Minho’s hand, pushing it away from his head. 

“Bold,” Minho says, resting his chin on his hands, his stare burning into Jisung. “You look really good.” 

“Thanks.” Jisung knows blushing so he tries to hide behind his sleeves. “I’m going to re-dye it soon, the orange is getting old.” 

“The most I’ve ever done is brown,” Minho gestures to his own hair. “I think my parents would have heart attacks if I came home with anything that’s not a natural color.” 

Jisung laughs, “Well, I think you would look good blond or with color. But yeah, maybe you shouldn’t put your parents’ lives at risk.” 

“What about your parents? Were they chill with you dying your hair orange?” 

Jisung’s smile turns sad. “I...I don’t see them that often anymore. We sort of had a falling out my senior year. So they haven’t seen it.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Concern paints Minho’s features. “Are you okay now?” 

“Yeah,” Jisung grins at him, bright once again. “I am.” 

~

As the days roll by it gets colder and colder, winter finally making its descent. Jisung loves the cold, often making his way to the roof of the business building to stare off into space or draw. With Hyunjin and Felix dating he gives them as much space as he can, which leaves a singular option available for companionship: Minho Lee. 

“Almonds, a good snack or a waste of water?” 

Jisung snorts, looking up from his sketchpad at Minho who’s staring at a bag of almonds in his hands. They’re on the roof, Jisung sitting cross-legged on a crate while Minho stretches out across a few. “Waste of water.” 

“But they taste good,” Minho sighs, tossing the bag towards his backpack and closing his eyes. 

“They taste like nothing.” Jisung grabs a Cheeto from the open bag beside him, leaning over and pressing it to Minho’s lips. 

Minho lets Jisung feed him, groaning quietly in defeat. “Almonds are healthy, though.” 

“Are you saying I’m not healthy?” Jisung asks, a pout obvious in his voice. 

Minho rolls over onto his stomach, resting his chin on his hands as he watches Jisung work. “You consume an alarming amount of junk food on a daily basis,” Minho says, “honestly I don’t know how you maintain your weight.” 

“Brutally honest,” Jisung grimaces at the amount of graphite that the side of his hand has picked up from his sketching. “I have a high metabolism.” 

“Ah.” 

They drift into silence, the scratch of Jisung’s pencil against paper the only noise echoing through the space. Jisung loses himself in the piece, only pulling out of his trance when his phone alarm goes off, signaling that he needs to get to class. 

“Hey, Minho,” Jisung starts, but trails off when he sees that the older boy has fallen asleep, cheek pressed against his hands. Jisung tentatively reaches out a hand, fingers landing in Minho’s soft hair. He brushes through the brown strands, smiling as Minho sighs a bit, nose scrunching up. 

“Rise and shine,” Jisung teases when he blinks awake, pulling his hand back. “I’ve got to go to class but I didn’t want to leave you up here asleep, I’m sure you’d be sore from laying on the crates.” 

“Mm, thanks.” Minho sits up sleepily, stretching his arms above his head. “When are you free next?” 

“You just love making plans with me, don’t you,” Jisung teases, standing up and throwing his bag over his shoulder. 

“Maybe.” Minho follows suit, their hands naturally intertwining as they walk towards the stairs. Jisung smiles up at him, heart thumping. 

~

“So, why’d you choose this school? Why didn’t you go to an art exclusive school?” 

Jisung looks as his feet, watching the gravel crunch underneath his shoes as they walk. “My parents. They, uh, wanted me to be a doctor, right, or a lawyer or whatever. So it was a bit of a disappointment when I said I wanted to study art. They made a deal, said they would pay for a year of my tuition and then if I didn’t want to go into another field after the year is up they’d cut me off.” Jisung laughs dryly. “So I’m screwed, basically. Obviously I have no intention of changing majors because I suck at science,” Minho laughs quietly, “so yeah. I’ve been talking to the admissions people, right, and they said next year if I get a part time job they’ll give financial aid. I uh, also applied for a few grants, there aren’t that many available for students in my situation but I’m giving it a shot anyways.” Jisung stuffs his hands into his hoodie pocket. “So that’s Jisung Han’s big struggle with money. Attractive, huh.”

“You’re really strong,” Minho tells him, “it takes a lot of willpower to stand up to someone, let alone your parents. And to deal with all of that...I know that most people wouldn’t be able to handle that. Me included.” 

“That’s…” Jisung slows to a stop as he looks up at Minho, eyes wide. “Thank you, Minho.” 

“It’s the truth,” Minho says, smiling at him as he takes Jisung’s hand. They begin walking again, Jisung trying to tug his hood down lower in an attempt to hide his blush. “So, the showcase. The fine arts department is going out, too?” 

Jisung nods, “Yeah, it’s an opportunity for our works to be critiqued by sponsors, basically people who aren’t our professors. There will most likely be a few scholarships and grants awarded, and I’m hoping that I’ll be on that list.” 

“I hope so too.” Minho squeezes his hand, smiling down at Jisung. “So, what are you submitting?” 

“Ah, well, I got the go ahead to submit three pieces from two different classes, so that gives me a bit of an upper hand,” Jisung says, thinking back to the discussions he’d had with his professors. “A piece from the class you helped me with, drawing, and two from Cha’s class.” 

“Have you picked what you’re going to show?” 

“Mm, two. The other is a painting that I’m in the process of acquiring a yes from the board for.” Jisung smiles to himself at the thought of the mural idea he’s submitted to the administration. He’s always thought the north side of the theater was a bit boring and with Cha’s recommendation he has a fair shot at getting the okay.

“Sounds like a physically big project?” Minho’s interested, Jisung can hear it in his voice. The thought of his crush being intrigued by his interests has his heart melting. 

“Yeah, it is. I, uh, I haven’t told anyone about it yet, besides admin. So you’ll have to wait to see what it is.” 

Minho’s lips form a pout but he nods, “Sad, but will do.” 

“What about you? Most of the showcase is focused around the dance and theater classes.” 

Minho nods, “Yeah, I’m in a few different sections, so I’ll be performing twice. I’m a bit nervous, I have a solo in one.” 

“That’s so exciting,” Jisung says with a grin, looking up at Minho. “I’m going to watch for sure.” 

Minho laughs, “Okay. Your friends Felix and Hyunjin are preparing too, they’re doing really well with what I’ve seen when I TA.” 

“I’m glad, they both are really talented.” 

“They are.” Minho looks down at their hands, smiling softly. “You are too.” 

Jisung swats at his arm, blushing. “Stop that!” 

Minho chuckles, swinging their linked hands between them. “So where to, Sungie?” 

“Lunch, if you’re paying,” Jisung says, fluttering his eyelashes when Minho looks at him. “Please, for your favorite underclassman?” 

“Who said you’re my favorite?” The familiar teasing lilt is back in his voice which makes Jisung giggle.

“You, when you snatched me out of a boring class because I asked you to and walked with me around campus _and_ held my hand for most of the time.” Jisung looks pointedly at their hands. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Minho sighs, lips quirked up as he brushes Jisung’s hair out of his eyes with his free hand. “You’re too cute to say no to.” 

“I know,” Jisung says cheekily, “you’re whipped for my adorable behaviors.” 

Minho’s staring at the ground when he answers, not meeting Jisung’s eyes. “Yeah, I guess I am.” 

A silence descends on them that burns Jisung up, his palm clammy against Minho’s. “Ice cream,” Jisung finally says, “like the time we hung out for the first time. But I promise I won’t drop it if you don’t mention shirtless activities.” 

Minho smirks, squeezing Jisung’s hand again, changing their direction to the stores just off campus. “You’re a money leech.” 

“And you’re not stopping me,” Jisung quips. “It’s okay, Minho, I’ll always defend my position of your favorite freshie, no one else stands a chance against me.” 

Minho laughs, the sound that makes Jisung crumble into tiny gooey bits inside. “You’re lucky I can’t say no to you.” 

“It’s agreed then, I’m your favorite.” Jisung feels smug. 

Minho nods, rolling his eyes. 

“Hm? Couldn’t hear you.” 

Minho stops, spinning Jisung to face him. “Listen up everyone,” he shouts, alerting all the students near them that are milling around the grounds. “Jisung Han is my favorite underclassman!” Jisung’s eyes go wide. “He’s also a big mooch.” 

“Minho!” Jisung shrieks, burying himself in the older boy’s arms to hide his flaming face. “You’re embarrassing!” 

“And you’re cute when you blush. C’mon, let’s go.” 

As Minho drags him away, Jisung tries to cower away from all the stares and smirks from the other students who had seen the whole interaction. 

~

“Hey, hey, hey,” Minho catches Jisung when he’s wandering down the hallway towards the cafeteria, pulling him to the side. “Ji? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” Jisung mumbles, rubbing at his eyes with his fists. “I have class ‘n a minute I need to go.”

“You look half dead.” There’s concern in Minho’s voice as he tips Jisung’s chin up. “When was the last time you slept?”

Jisung blinks wearily, trying to think back. “Not too long ago,” he says, and then promptly passes out.

“Hi, sleeping beauty,” Minho says as Jisung’s eyes flutter open. 

“Mm, Min?” Jisung props himself up on his elbows, peering around the room. He’s laying in a bed parallel to another, desks mirrored at the foot of each. There’s a closet and a small refrigerator and microwave against the other wall, a couch taking up most of the room near the door. “Is this your dorm?”

“Yeah.” Minho presses his hand to Jisung’s forehead, checking his temperature. “I don’t know which room is yours so I brought you here.”

Jisung nods, falling back against the pillows. “What happened?”

“You fainted,” Minho says blankly. “Right there in the hallway, you were lucky I was there.”

“Oh.” Jisung groans, “Fuck, I missed my class, didn’t I?”

“Jisung!”

Jisung is startled by Minho’s shout, his mouth dropping open. 

“Jisung,” Minho repeats, trying to calm himself down, “you fainted, that’s pretty serious. And from what I can tell and from knowing you it’s from not sleeping. Can you please tell me what’s going on?”

“I’ve been really busy with work, and I, uh, called my parents a few days ago? I wanted to invite them to the showcase, right, but my parents aren’t the nicest about my choice of major, like I told you.” Jisung stares up at the ceiling, ignoring the warmth of Minho’s hand on his arm. “So we had a spat, which was fun. And the rumors about us are everywhere, sometime yesterday or the day before, it’s all blurry, some fans of yours cornered me and asked about our relationship. I guess between everything I haven’t really slept in a few days. And I’ve probably been drinking too much coffee and eating too little.”

“I’m sorry.” Minho turns away, passing a hand over his face. “I didn’t...I’ve gotten used to people talking about me, I’ve learned to how to tune it out. I didn’t even think - I’m sorry, Jisung. And your parents, are you okay?”

“It’s okay and I’m okay.” Jisung groans as he pulls himself into a sitting position, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and scooting close to Minho, their arms and thighs pressed together. “My parents are dickheads, always have been. I need to stop caring about what they think. And with the other stuff it’s just that my anxiety likes to win in most situations.” He glances up at Minho, smiling a little when their eyes meet. “I'm good around people most of the time but the rest of the time it’s a little scary, you know, to have people talking to me or about me.” He fidgets nervously, breath catching when one of Minho’s hands grabs his, lacing their fingers together. “I don’t regret becoming your friend. Just sometimes my brain freaks.”

“I’m sorry for not giving you space to breathe,” Minho says, letting Jisung rest his head on his shoulder. “If you ever feel like this tell me, okay? I’ll do whatever I can to make it better.”

“You’re such a caring fellow,” Jisung teases, “taking care of me like this.” He yawns, pressing further into Minho’s side. 

Minho laughs under his breath, detaching himself from Jisung. “Lay back down, you need some more sleep. We can have takeout when you wake back up.”

“Sounds good.” Jisung buries his face in Minho’s pillow, smiling contentedly when Minho’s fingers slide into his hair, his nails dragging briefly against his scalp before combing through a clump of orange hair and repeating. “Feels good, Min.”

“I know,” Minho teases, “you’re practically purring.”

“You’re lucky I’m so tired,” Jisung mumbles, far from threatening. “Sorry I scared you. With the whole fainting thing.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay.” Minho rubs Jisung’s shoulder with his free hand. “Sleep, Sungie.”

Jisung is out in an instant. 

The second time Jisung stirs awake the smell of thai food is hanging heavy in the air. “Min?” he sits up groggily, squinting at the light. 

“Ah, it finally awakens.”

Jisung peers towards the other end of the room, nerves prickling under his skin when he spots an unfamiliar boy draped over the couch, a takeout container balanced on his lap. 

“Are you Changbin?”

The boy nods, “And you’re Jisung Han, the art student who’s managed to score Minho.”

“I didn’t score Minho,” Jisung scoffs, standing up with a grimace. “Is there food for me?”

Changbin nods towards a stack of containers. “Whatever, Minho’s obsessed with you, it’s bordering on weird.”

“He’s a weird guy, what can I say.” Jisung grabs a container, groaning happily at the smell. “Anyways, where is he?”

“He’s currently at the store buying you medicine,” Changbin says, mouth full. “Because, as previously stated, Minho cares about you.”

“Obsession isn’t the same as caring about someone,” Jisung laughs, sitting in Minho’s desk chair and cracking the lid off the container. 

“Whatever,” Changbin sighs. “Anyways, it’s nice to meet you, finally.”

“It’s nice to meet you too.” 

At that moment the door clicks open and Minho enters the dorm, eyes widening when he spots Jisung. “Sungie? How are you feeling?”

“I’m good,” Jisung says, smiling up at Minho. “The sleep helped a lot.”

“Good,” Minho sets a plastic bag on the desk. “I got some stuff for you, mostly Advil. In case you get a headache or something.”

“Thanks, but you didn’t need to.”

Minho waves him off, grabbing his own food and collapsing into Changbin’s chair. “So you guys have met now. You’re both alive so that’s good.”

Changbin snorts, tossing his empty container into the trash can next to the couch. “You’re an idiot, Min. I’ve got to go, anyways, but it was nice to meet you, Jisung. I assume I’ll see you around again.”

He grabs his coat and is about to leave when he turns back, bringing their attention from the food to him. “Hey, just so you know, on my way here after my last class I heard like twenty people talking about you carrying Jisung to the dorm. Just, people talk.”

When the door closes behind Changbin the room falls silent, the only noise being the scrape of Jisung’s plastic fork as he shovels food from the container into his mouth. 

“Jisung?” Minho’s voice is tentative, like he’s scared to speak. 

“It’s fine,” Jisung says, standing up and tossing his garbage into the can. “Everyone thinks we’re dating, anyways. Or that I’m using you for clout or something like that. Y’know. Minho Lee and the nobody from the art department.” Jisung shoots a smile in Minho’s direction, barely registering the terrified expression on the boy’s face. Jisung grabs his bag from where it’s set by the door, checking the time on his phone. Almost nine. “Thanks for taking care of me today, Minho. And I’m sorry about the shit people are saying.”

Jisung grabs the bag of medicine off Minho’s desk, stuffing it into his hoodie pocket. “See you around.”

The air outside Minho’s dorm is frigid, the first real hints of winter making their appearance. Jisung sniffles, rubbing at his eyes. “You’re an idiot, Jisung,” he whispers, glancing back towards the dorm doors. “Good going.”

Biting his bottom lip he starts the walk towards the only comforting place aside from his dorm and Minho’s arms, the art building, anxiety and excitement twisting in the pit of his stomach as he turns his stress into a plan. 

It’s nearly eleven when Jisung has dragged all the tarps and paint cans to the side of the theater. He looks around at the equipment, stepping towards one of the lights and pressing the switch to turn it on. Immediately the side of the building is lit up with artificial sunlight, creating a beacon in the center of campus and Jisung grins, hurrying to the second light and turning it on. 

“Thanks for giving me the yes,” he whispers, glancing over his shoulder at the art building, a smile growing on his face. He’s just about to start opening paint cans when his phone buzzes in his pocket. 

[Lixie] yo ji where the fuck r u  
[Lixie] it’s an hour to midnight 

[Lixie] i texted minho lee’s number and he said he hasnt seen u since earlier

[Lixie] jISUNF U FUCKER ANSWER ME

[Jiji] sorry!!! i’m ok, i’m painting :)  
[Jiji] dont worry abt me ill see u in the morninf~~ luv u

[Lixie] I actually can’t deal with you  
[Lixie] goodnight wherever the hell u are

Jisung sticks his phone into the pocket of his bag that he’s left near the first light. 

Looking up at the primed brick, his heart starts racing. 

By early morning Jisung has sectioned off the wall and is comfortable climbing up and down the scaffolding. He’s begun to paint in the background of the piece, panning diagonally from reds and oranges at the lower left to blues and purples near the top right. His arms are aching but he knows he can’t stop, not yet. 

About half an hour later students start to show up on campus for their first classes, many flocking to the mural. Jisung feels his anxiety stirring but he pushes it down, there’s no way that he can work privately, not on this project. 

“Jisung Han you crazy ass bitch!”

Jisung jolts at the scream, eyes widening. He peers down towards the ground, immediately spotting Felix and Hyunjin. “So this is where you’ve been all night?” Felix continues. “You idiot! You could’ve gotten hurt up there alone in the dark!”

“I can’t help when inspiration strikes,” Jisung shoots back, giggling at both of the boys’ expressions. “My arms ache like crazy, fucking human stamina.”

He pauses, patting the front of his hoodie. “Of course,” he whispers, pulling out the bag of medicine Minho had given him. Sure enough, there’s a bottle of pain killer inside. 

“Yo, Jisung, we have to get to class,” Hyunjin shouts. “You going to be okay?”

“Yeah. I’ll see you guys tonight, ‘kay?”

“Made sure to take breaks,” Felix adds. “I’m proud of you, Sung.”

Jisung grins at his words, waving goodbye. 

He decides to take a break not long after, setting down the paint rollers and sitting down on the floor of the top level of scaffolding. It’s pretty peaceful, there’s the occasional clump of students who will stop and stare up at the wall but for the most part Jisung is alone. 

He can’t help but think back to the previous night, replaying the way he had left Minho over and over. Guilt eats him up; none of this was Minho’s fault, it was just Jisung’s stupid emotions. 

“Han!”

Jisung peers down, jumping to his feet when he spots Cha. “Good morning!”

Cha shakes his head. “You’re in trouble, do you know how dangerous working during the night on a project like this is?”

“Sorry, sir,” Jisung says, scratching the back of his neck. 

“There’s no stopping you when it comes to art,” the man says, sighing. “It looks great, Jisung. Keep up the good work.”

Jisung blushes at the praise, shooting his professor finger guns and watching him groan in defeat. Laughing, he turns back to the wall. “Here goes,” he whispers, descending to the ground and walking to the paint cans. 

The first person Jisung carefully sketches out makes him smile - an artist, painted with warm colors, a palette in hand as he raises the other, clutching a paintbrush. He’s crouched, eyes fixated on something beyond the confines of the wall. 

Once he marks in all of the base colors Jisung moves to the middle of the wall, the form of a musician forming under his hands. Her hands are poised on a keyboard that loops loosely around her, without an end. She’s smiling, a look of joy on her face. 

The final person Jisung creates in the top corner is a dancer made of cool colors, deep blues and muted purples. The dancer’s back is arched, his face tilted up, the mural only showing his profile. 

When Jisung finishes the focuses of the mural he’s exhausted - arms aching and legs going numb from standing for so long. He groans as he climbs down the scaffolding, trudging along as he cleans up his supplies, using the hose the staff had hooked up for him to wash his palettes and brushes. 

When everything is set out to dry Jisung climbs back up the scaffolding with his bag, liking the escape that the height gives him. 

For the first time in hours he checks his phone, noting that he has a few unread texts. There’s also a missed call and clicking on it, Jisung’s heart drops. 

He stares at his phone for a long minute but then nods, dialing the number back and raising the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” 

“Hi,” Jisung whispers, fiddling with a piece of his hair. “I’m sorry I missed your call earlier.”

“Jisung?” Minho sounds like he’s panting slightly, probably from dancing. 

“I...can we talk? Sometime? I feel really bad about last night and I want to clear everything up,” Jisung says, biting down on his bottom lip.

“How about now?” Jisung’s eyes widen. “Nothing’s happening in class, I’ll just leave a bit early.” 

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to miss anything.” 

“I want to see you.” Minho sighs, sounding tired. “Where are you right now?” 

“Outside the theater,” Jisung says, “the north side.” 

“Okay, I’ll be there in a few minutes. Bye, Sung.” 

When he hangs up Jisung opens the camera app, flipping the view around and groaning at his appearance. His hair is matted with blue paint, offsetting the orange in a terrible way. There are streaks of red and yellow on his cheeks and temples from where he pushed back his hair or wiped away sweat. To finish it off, there’s a splattering of green and purple over his nose and forehead, even some dried droplets sticking to his eyelashes. 

Jisung shuts his phone off, stuffing it into his bag. Looking down he grimaces, noting how his hoodie and jeans are spotted with multiple colors, a fat line of purple drawn down his left side from his chest to knee, where he had dropped a paint roller somewhere around five in the morning. “Oh fuck.” 

Jisung takes a breath, trying to calm his racing heart, and looks out, watching for Minho. 

Only a few minutes pass before Minho comes into view, the boy pausing upon seeing the mural, but then glancing up to find Jisung on the scaffolding. Jisung grabs his bag and climbs down, almost bumping into Minho, who had jogged over, when his feet meet the ground. 

“Jisung? Is this yours?” Minho asks, an air of admiration in his voice. He’s breathing heavily, a few beads of sweat on his forehead. He’s dressed in joggers and a sweatshirt, obviously straight out of class.

“Yeah,” Jisung whispers, running his fingers through his hair but stopping when they hit the clumps of paint. 

“You said that you were given a big project but you never said this big,” Minho says, eyes darting over the mural. “It’s beautiful, Jisung.”

“It’s nowhere near done,” Jisung counters, blushing. “I’ve just finished blocking in the basic colors, now I have to go add all the color variations and details. I think my arms are going to give out. Thank you for the pain killers, or I would be dead on the ground right now.” 

“Oh, I’m glad they came in handy.” Minho looks at the mural and then at Jisung. “Did you do this overnight?” 

“Uh, yeah,” Jisung says, scratching the back of his neck. “I felt really bad about what I said, the way I blew up on you. And my stress relief is painting so yeah. Been here since eleven yesterday.” 

Minho lets out a long breath, looking at Jisung with an expression he can’t quite decipher. “You…” he trails off, tugging at the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “Have you eaten? I’ll buy you a late lunch.” 

“That would be nice, but you don’t have to,” Jisung says, whining a bit when Minho rolls his eyes and goes to grab his hand. Before he can, though, Minho looks at Jisung, caution in his eyes. Jisung smiles at him, closing the distance and lacing their fingers together. “But I would like your company, so I’m taking you and your hand hostage for now.” 

Minho’s smile is blinding. 

“This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” Jisung moans, scarfing down his turkey sandwich. Minho laughs, leaning back in his chair, only a coffee in front of him. They’re sitting outside the campus cafe - Jisung had insisted that he couldn’t go inside, given his paint-covered state. “Thanks for paying.” 

“You’re adorable,” Minho says, smiling fondly as Jisung finishes off his sandwich, cheeks puffed out as he chews. “How do you even exist?” 

Jisung blushes, looking down. “I don’t. I’m a figment of your imagination that has been created to perpetually torture you.” 

Minho gently grabs Jisung’s chin, raising a napkin he had dampened with Jisung’s water. When it touches Jisung’s skin the boy squirms, pouting when Minho holds him still. Minho wipes at the paint, focused solely on removing the color. Jisung watches him, noticing the tiniest details of his face - the mole on the tip of his nose and the way his eyelashes brush against his skin when he blinks. 

“There’s really no hope,” Minho sighs after a minute, pulling away, much to Jisung’s disappointment. 

“I have some soap at my dorm that’ll help get it all off,” Jisung says, touching his cheek. 

Minho nods, resting his chin on his palm. “Hey, Jisung? I was wondering about the dancer in the mural, he kind of looks like…” Minho trails off, shaking his head. “Never mind. They all look amazing, Ji. You’re extremely talented.”

“Thanks,” Jisung says, smiling happily. “I hope the final product will be good enough to keep up there.”

“I’m sure it will be.” Minho reaches across the table to tap Jisung’s nose, laughing at his expression. 

~

When Jisung sits in on one of Felix and Hyunjin’s practices for the first time, he nearly tips off the bench when he sees Minho walk into the room next to the teacher. “Fuck,” he whispers, having forgotten that he’s a TA for the class and in no way mentally prepared for watching him dance.

As the teacher starts off the class Minho stands off to the side, observing the students. When his gaze finally moves to the far side of the room his face splits into a grin and he nods towards Jisung. Jisung smiles back, giving him a tiny wave. 

Felix and Hyunjin are truly amazing dancers. They both have unique styles but the similar passion they have for dance is obvious. Jisung tries to focus on them, he really does, but he can’t help when his eyes follow Minho around the room when the older boy moves to help students when they get lost. Jisung also can’t help the ugly flare of jealousy that courses through him when he sees Minho touch students’ arms or sometimes legs to show them the proper move. The jealousy increases ten-fold when Minho smiles or laughs at something the student says. 

Jisung can only stand to stay for half of the practice because seeing Minho demonstrate clips of the dance for all the students to see, moving with grace and precision, leaves Jisung breathless. When Minho does a particularly intense body roll while keeping eye contact with Jisung through the mirror Jisung takes a shaky breath, hurrying out of the room on wobbly legs. He’s really gay and really weak for Minho Lee, and it leaves him helpless and shaky. 

Minho texts him not seconds later, though still in class, asking why Jisung ran out. Jisung replies with a terribly spelt ‘keep your eyes to yourself,’ his hands still quivering, only to groan in frustration when Minho replies with a winky face. 

It’s obvious, even to Jisung, that Minho is and has been flirting with him. Why he has is what Jisung doesn’t know. He knows Minho’s a flirt, he’s heard the rumors about him and his flings around campus. But when he posed the question and his concerns to Felix his best friend just looked at him with an expression of disbelief and then told him to figure it out himself. 

“You’re clueless, Han,” turns out to be Felix’s most common comment directed towards him, from the Minho Lee situation to the times he’s come and met Jisung with a coffee in front of the mural. Jisung just frowns, confused, and looks up to the spot Felix is staring at. The dancer, his favorite part of the painting. 

“It’s nice, isn’t it,” Jisung says one day, only to be met with Felix’s heavy sigh.

~

Finally the day comes when Jisung’s finished mural is to be revealed to the professors and staff, and Jisung is practically shaking with anxiety. He had hoped Minho would be able to come but he was stuck in class, much to Jisung’s dismay. 

When it finally becomes time, Jisung waves to the maintenance guys as they pull away the scaffolding, retreating to stand with the teachers. 

He stares up at the completed mural, pride flooding him. The colors are bright and shaded perfectly, the three people detailed and incredibly lifelike. Jisung drags his eyes from the painter to the musician, smiling brightly. He looks up at the dancer, viewing the shades of color depicting the boy. 

_“Oh, fuck.”_

Jisung’s world crashes down around him as he stares up at the unmistakable profile of Minho Lee. 

Jisung spends several minutes in conversation with the teacher before he’s finally free to go. He books it towards his dorm, feeling the burn of tears in his eyes. 

When he flings the door open Felix turns to him, immediately jumping to his feet to hug Jisung, who’s freely sobbing. “Hey, Sung, can you tell me what’s wrong?” he asks, closing the door. 

“I p-painted Minho Lee o-on the w-wall of the theater,” Jisung cries, hiding his face in Felix’s neck. “I-It’s so obvious, e-especially with the scaffolding gone, Lix, I’m so fucked! I didn’t even r-realize, but you did, that’s why you and Jin k-kept asking. Fuck, what do I do?”

“You’re going to have to talk to him at some point,” Felix soothes. “Technically you didn’t have his consent, but I’m sure he’ll be okay with it.”

“Do you think he knows?” Jisung whispers, clutching the back of Felix’s shirt tightly. 

“Yeah, I do,” Felix sighs. “Like you said, it’ll be pretty obvious with the scaffolding gone. And news concerning Minho Lee spreads quickly on campus.”

“I want to throw myself off a cliff,” Jisung moans, pulling away to tug his bag over his head and pull off his shoes, stumbling towards his bed and landing face first on it. 

“No, don’t do that, I’ll be sad,” Felix says, collapsing into his desk chair. “Do you want Jinnie to bring some donuts over? He picked up a dozen at the store earlier to hoard.”

“Please, I need sugar if I’m going to survive this,” Jisung mumbles, curling up on his side. 

Nearly an hour the three of them are squished together on Jisung’s bed, the box of donuts empty on the floor in front of them. Some Hallmark romance is playing on Felix’s laptop and Hyunjin is sobbing against Jisung’s shoulder, Felix patting his back in reassurance. Just as the leads are finally about to confess their undying love for each other, there’s a knock on the door. Hyunjin groans in annoyance, reaching out to pause the movie. “Who is it?” Felix calls. 

“Minho.” 

Jisung’s eyes bulge. “I’m not here,” he hisses, rolling out from between them and dropping to the floor, scooting underneath the bed. 

He hears Felix snort and then the door clicks open. “Hey,” Hyunjin says. 

“Hi, um, is Jisung here?” Jisung squeezes his eyes shut upon hearing Minho’s voice. 

“Nah, I don’t know where he is, maybe the library,” Felix says. 

“Oh.” Minho sounds disappointed. “Do you think he might be up on the roof?”

“Sorry,” Felix says, the word probably accompanied by a shrug. “I’ll tell him you stopped by, though.”

“Okay, thanks.” There’s shuffling and Jisung is about to crawl out from under the bed when Felix speaks up again. 

“He didn’t mean to. He didn’t realize he was even painting you. Just...don’t hurt him.”

“I’m not angry at him, I just want to talk to him. I’m...I’m scared that he’ll run away again. Because of the rumors or because of me.”

A few minutes later the door closes and Jisung pulls himself from under the bed. “Did he mean it?”

“Of course he did, Sungie,” Felix says, leaning against Hyunjin. “He’s not going to ruin your friendship because of the painting. You’re going to ruin it if you keep avoiding him.”

Jisung nods, taking a shaky breath. “Okay, okay. I can do this, right? It’s just Minho. Just Minho Lee who is the most popular guy at this school and the guy I have a big fat crush on. Fuck.” He walks to the door, hand shaking as he pulls it open. “I’ll be back.” 

The night air is frigid and Jisung hits himself for not bringing a jacket or anything other than a ratty Star Trek t-shirt with holes unintentionally ripped on the left shoulder. He looks around but Minho is nowhere in sight, just a few students walking towards various dorm buildings. “Pitiful, that’s what you are,” Jisung mutters to himself, walking in the direction of the theater. 

The mural is just how Jisung had left it this morning, beautiful but holding the detonator to one of Jisung’s most valued friendships. Jisung wraps his arms around himself, standing out from the center of the artwork, all alone in the middle of the cement space. 

“What have you done,” Jisung whispers, staring up at the dancer, eyes trailing along the lines of his face. 

“Jisung?” 

Jisung turns slowly, easily spotting Minho. The older boy is standing at the base of the stairs, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets. He looks too perfect, just existing there with his perfect eyes and perfect clothes. Jisung’s heart stutters. 

Minho takes a tentative step forward and when Jisung doesn’t object, he ascends all the stairs, coming to stand a yard away from Jisung. “I was just at your dorm, your friends said they didn’t know where you were,” Minho says, voice quiet, empty. 

“I was just walking around. Thinking.” Jisung’s unable to focus on Minho’s face. “Look, I’m so sorry about the mural. I didn’t even realize that I had painted you until today, I’m sorry I never asked for consent, I can go to the staff and ask to have it redone by someone else, obviously I’m compromised.” As Jisung rambles he rubs his arms, chilly gusts of air hitting them. “I’m sorry, Minho. It’s...weird, I get it. So I can just go, I’ll talk to the board tomorrow, okay? I’m sure the wall can be primed again in a few days.” 

Jisung turns around but before he can take a step Minho has wrapped his hand around his wrist. “Ji, I’m not weirded out, I’m not mad. It was startling, but I’m honored to have had you paint me _and_ draw me.” 

Jisung turns around, staring up at Minho. “Really?” 

Minho smiles, pressing their palms together and linking their fingers. “Yeah.” 

“Thank you,” Jisung says right as another gust hits, his teeth chattering from the cold. Minho instantly pulls off his coat, helping Jisung into it. “Hey, what is this?” Jisung asks, staring at the sleeves of the bomber jacket that come way down over his hands. 

“You were literally freezing to death,” Minho says, zipping the coat up. 

“Was not,” Jisung says, whacking Minho’s chest with his sleeves. “You’re going to be cold now.” 

“Better me than you,” Minho says, tugging off his beanie and putting it on Jisung, fixing his bangs so they don’t cover his eyes. “Cute.” 

Jisung smiles at him, puffing his cheeks out in a way that he knows makes him look extra adorable. “Hm?” 

“You’re a brat,” Minho says, but there’s affection in his voice and the faintest tinge of pink to his cheeks. 

They fall into silence, walking together around the center of campus. “Hey, look,” Minho says when they’re nearing the engineering building. 

Jisung looks up, eyes widening at the sight of snowflakes twirling from the sky. “The first snow.” He stretches out his hand, watching the delicate flakes land on his palm but melt not a second later. “It’s beautiful.” 

Minho is silent until Jisung looks up at him. “Yeah. It really is.” Jisung’s heart leaps as Minho tilts his chin up, their eyes meeting. 

Jisung stays frozen for a long moment but Minho doesn’t move, so instead Jisung wraps his arms around Minho’s waist, falling against him in a tight hug. When Minho hugs back, whatever could have happened in that moment fades away until it’s just them and the snow.

They end up in the back of the library near the heaters, where they sit and talk about this and that until Jisung falls asleep against Minho, head resting on his shoulder. The next morning when Jisung asks how he had gotten back to the dorm Felix just smiles, pointing to the jacket and hat on the foot of his bed.

~

The day of the showcase comes too quickly. Jisung’s nervous to display his work so he goes to the theater building early, helping the maintenance staff set up all the tables in the back of the large hall. When he’s finished he hurries off to the roof of the business building, trying to decompress by looking through videos of Minho’s cats the boy had sent him, but ends up pacing up and down the length of the space. 

Finally, around four, Minho texts him, asking to meet up before the gallery walk starts. Jisung practically runs to the music building, heart leaping when he spots Minho leaning against the brick wall. “I missed you,” Jisung says as he crashes into the boy, arms hooking around his neck. 

“I missed you too,” Minho replies, holding Jisung’s waist. “We did see each other yesterday, though.” 

“My anxiety is peaking, let me say I missed you,” Jisung mumbles, standing on his toes so he can properly hide his face in Minho’s neck. 

“You okay? Can I get you anything?” There’s so much concern in Minho’s voice that Jisung’s heart flips and beats double time. 

“Better now,” Jisung whispers, “you have no idea how much you help me just by existing, Minho.” 

There’s raw emotion in his voice and Minho hears it too, breath catching. “I’ll always be here when you need me, Jisungie,” he chooses to say, one hand moving up to play with the hair at the back of Jisung’s head. 

“I know you will,” Jisung murmurs, “I’m your favorite.” 

Minho laughs, “And I’m yours.” 

Giggling, Jisung drops back down to his normal height, hands resting on Minho’s shoulders. “Obviously.” 

“Are you okay?” Minho asks when Jisung turns away from him.

Jisung kicks at a pebble resting on the concrete, sending it flying. “It’s just that you’re Minho Lee. You’re cool - you have a leather jacket and drink coffee with fancy names and half the student body is in love with you.” Minho snorts, looking down at his jacket. “And I’m most definitely not cool. I don’t own any clothes that aren’t covered in paint and I eat lucky charms for breakfast most days because I like hunting for the marshmallow bits. I even have a pet plant. And it’s fake because I’m barely capable of taking care of myself, let alone another living thing.” Jisung takes a deep breath, looking up at the older boy. “We say we’re each other’s favorites but if I’m me, why are you there?” Jisung asks, gesturing to Minho. 

Minho smiles crookedly, hands stuffed into his pockets. “Because no one’s like you. And that’s a good thing.” He stretches out a hand. “Come on, Jisung. Stop overthinking, trust me.” 

Jisung laces their fingers together, instantly yanked forward when Minho starts running. “Hey!” Jisung shrieks, trying to keep up with him, gripping Minho’s hand tightly. “That’s another thing! You work out and I hate the gym!” Minho’s laughter rings in his ears and Jisung can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips. 

The gallery walk goes smoothly for the most part, Jisung has to switch between his three different pieces but he ends up enjoying talking about his art. Felix and Hyunjin keep stopping by, checking in on him and giving him obnoxious thumbs up. Minho finds him towards the end of the hour, stopping to talk to Jisung when there’s no one standing around outside in front of the mural. 

“How do you feel?” he asks, reaching out and gently taking Jisung’s hand in his. 

“Exhausted,” Jisung giggles along with Minho, stepping forward to lay his head against Minho’s chest, hands clutching lightly at either side of Minho’s waist, the fabric of his shirt soft under his hands. Minho holds him carefully, slowly rocking them back and forth. 

It hits Jisung then, as they’re swaying in front of Jisung’s mural, the noise of the showcase tumbling out through the open doors to their left, how much he loves Minho Lee. Jisung had admitted to liking the boy early on but to be in love with him - he’s completely terrified and hopelessly happy all at once. 

“Did I tell you that you look beautiful tonight?” 

Jisung’s heart stutters. Minho’s called him cute and adorable many times but never beautiful. He glances down at his oversized red t-shirt tucked into black jeans, the neckline of the top too wide, resulting in one side slipping off his shoulder. There’s a velvety red choker around his neck and both of his wrists are stacked with bracelets. Felix insisted on eyeshadow and eyeliner, much to Jisung’s dismay, but when he looked in the mirror he felt like himself. 

“Really?” 

“Really,” Minho chuckles, moving to brush Jisung’s hair out of his eyes. “You’re beautiful.” 

“Jisung, you’re needed backstage.” 

Jisung pulls away from Minho, spotting a staff member waving at him from the doors. “I don’t know if I’ll see you before your performance, so good luck,” he says, and on a whim stretching up to kiss Minho’s cheek. “I’ll see you soon.” 

Jisung doesn’t look back as he rushes off, scared to see Minho’s reaction and scared to show how much he’s blushing. 

Jisung ends up standing up on stage with the rest of the students who had been picked to show work. He feels like the hundreds of people in the audience are all staring directly at him and it makes him want to run away, or cry. He does neither, forcing himself to stand still and listen to the professors speak. 

They go on and on about the wonders of art and the types of programs they strive to offer and Jisung tunes them out until what seems like the end. It looks like they’re about to finish up but then someone comes out on stage with a letter, handing it to the head of the department. She pauses her speech to open the envelope, nodding when she reads the contents. She waves Cha over from where he’s standing to the side, handing him the paper. 

Jisung watches as his professor’s face lights up, brighter than he’s ever seen. He’s given the microphone and looks over the paper once more before looking out at the crowd. “We’ve just received confirmation that one of our students has received a grant.”

Jisung freezes up, not daring to hope. 

“I am honored to be announcing this NFA YoungArts visual art grant to our very own Jisung Han!” 

Slow motion. 

Jisung’s hands move up to cover his mouth as applause billows in waves around him, the noise deafening but blurred into a stream of nothingness. 

He doesn’t realize he should be moving until one of his classmates pats his back. His hands drop loosely to his sides and then he’s walking towards his teacher, the noise of his boots clunking against the stage floor ringing loud in his ears. He feels cold as he walks, everything passing so slowly. He doesn’t know what to feel. 

The department head pulls him into a hug and it pulls him from his mind - a woman he doesn’t even remember the name of suddenly touching him. Then he looks towards his teacher - Professor Cha, looking at him with a look in his eyes that Jisung can only describe as fond. 

“This is real?” Jisung asks, voice a whisper, when he takes the remaining step towards the man. 

“It is,” Cha says, and reaches out for a hug. Jisung steps into it, a smile forming on his lips.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, “I know I’m a hard student to deal with. But you’ve...you’ve always seen me, not just what I can produce. So thank you, and I’m sorry I haven’t said it enough.” 

Cha releases him, patting his shoulder with a fond smile. “Out of all my years as a teacher I’ve never come across a student as troublesome and as passionate as you.” They both laugh.

“Thank you, sir,” Jisung says when he hands him the envelope. “Thank you.” 

When all the students are shooed off stage Jisung is hit with everything. It makes him dizzy, and the words ‘We would like you to make a speech in a few minutes,’ make him back against a wall, sliding down it as his breathing grows heavy. 

He fumbles for his phone, pulling it from his back pocket and pulls up Minho’s contact and calling his number. It takes only a few rings before he picks up. “Sungie?” 

“Min,” his voice is so shaky he can hardly hear himself. “T-They want m-me to make a s-speech.” 

“Okay, can you take a breath for me?” 

Jisung nods, breathing shakily. “Yeah.” 

“Listen to me, Jisung.” Minho’s voice has a serious edge to it, but it’s comforting all the same. “You’re going to do fine. They’ll want you to talk about art, right? Being an art student. That’s you, Sungie, talk about you. Be brave, there will always be someone here to catch you if you fall.” 

“Okay,” Jisung sees a stagehand waving at him and he stands up shakily. “I have to go. Wait - you’re here, right?” 

“I am,” Minho replies, “and I’m so proud of you.” Jisung smiles shyly. “Go out there and shine, Sungie. I know you can do it.” 

Jisung’s heart pounds frantically, squeezing the microphone with both hands, palms sticky with sweat. He feels faint as he looks out over the crowd, over the hundreds of students and teachers watching him. 

Taking a deep breath, he closes his eyes, trying to picture anything that might help him know what to say. Almost immediately he’s grappling at memories. 

Felix, grinning at him broadly, in the summer between third and fourth grade. There’s a flower crown in his hair, and he’s lifting another one up, urging Jisung to bow his head. 

Hyunjin’s face appears next, the boy holding out a pencil Jisung had dropped, both of them dressed in their high school uniforms. Hyunjin laughs at something Jisung must have said, throwing his head back as he giggles. Soon, Felix runs up to them, grabbing their hands and pulling them down the hallway while speaking quickly about something that has them all in laughter. 

When Jisung opens his eyes he has a smile on his face. He still feels nervous, but he also has the ghost touch of Hyunjin and Felix’s hands in his. 

“Hi, I’m Jisung Han, recipient of a NFA YoungArts visual art grant.” 

The applause shocks Jisung, almost making him drop the microphone. “Thanks,” he says when the noise has settled down. “Sorry if I sound a bit scattered, I wasn’t expecting to be up here on stage freestyling a speech.” He laughs, along with some of the audience. “I’m here to talk about art and my experience, so I’ll try my best not to make this dry and boring.” He takes a breath, hoping that he won’t screw up. 

“The way I see it is art students have two options, express yourself through your art, or project yourself onto your art.” More laughter sounds and Jisung grins. “We’re messy people, right, I don’t know how many times my roommate has threatened to throw me out after I drop paint on the floor and forget to clean it up. We’re like that, yeah, but our minds are all wired to observe everything. Sometimes that gets us unhinged and we end up frazzled and sleepless. I mean, I work hard, I do. I’m an insomniac because of the way I think, and yeah, I wish sometimes the projects we’re given are easier. But then every once in a while I’ll receive a prompt so mundane from one of my professors that I get pissed about it, even though that’s what I wanted.” Jisung turns to Cha, “That piece from last week I handed in did smell like pizza sauce, I did lie to you. I didn’t give a shit about it so I was eating while working. But hey, at least you gave me a high grade.” He shoots Cha finger guns, the man rubbing his forehead while glaring at him. 

Jisung laughs with the audience as he turns away from his professor. “Anyways, it takes a lot of mental energy to be a visual art student. We may not be particularly cool around campus but our drive and passion for what we do exceeds most others.” 

“I don’t know if you guys have seen the mural on the north wall of this building but it was my biggest project so far this year. I got yelled at by practically everyone I know for going up on the scaffolding in the middle of the night to paint but I think it was worth it, I’m pretty damn proud of the piece. It’s special, and I’m glad I get to share it with other people.”

“This year has been a bit of a wild ride,” Jisung says, “the whole concept of college was terrifying and it still is, but it’s different now. I guess I just know that there are people who will...catch me so I don’t fall, and trust me to do the same for them.” His eyes land on two familiar faces in the crowd and he smiles, laughing quietly when Felix waves at him, Hyunjin doing the same with one hand, wiping the tears off his cheeks with the other. “I’ve learned a lot, not just through my classes but also through the people in my life.” He pauses, trying to think of a metaphor. “You know when you make a circle of water on a piece of paper and then let different colors bleed into it from different points?” Jisung shrugs at the lack of response, “At least I tried, right?” Laughter.

When the crowd quiets again Jisung takes another steadying breath. “What I’m meaning to say is that people change you. Like I said, it’s either express or project, and I think all of us unknowingly project our emotions, personalities, and characteristics onto people. Like one of my friends eats hot sauce on everything and I do that now sometimes too. And my other friend says ‘you know’ all the time and it’s rubbed off on me.” He chuckles, looking at Felix and Hyunjin again. “And the other day I was with a friend and I just thought to myself, ‘wow, we’re really different.’ And that could’ve scared me but then I realized that I’ve learned the fancy names to coffees because of them and they stopped wearing rings ‘cause one time I complained that the rings made my hands cold.” Jisung blushes lightly, shrugging. He scans the crowd, nearly dropping the microphone when he meets Minho’s eyes, the boy staring at him from the back of the hall with an intensity Jisung can’t shake. “I guess it shows that you can be different but still work to have the dynamic of being compatible.”

“Anyways, college is a pretty cool place. I’ve been given a lot of opportunities through my teachers and I’ve grown a lot. I really look forward to improving throughout my next years here. Again, thanks to everyone who had a hand in giving me this grant, it really means so much to me.”

He catches Minho’s eyes one last time before he hands the microphone off, scurrying from the stage. 

When he steps into the hallway he reaches for his phone, still riding a massive adrenaline wave. It takes two rings before the call is picked up, enough time for Jisung to step into an empty storage room. “Mom?” 

“Jisung?” 

“Hi,” Jisung whispers, switching to Korean for the first time in quite a while. “Is Dad around? I need to talk to you both.” 

There’s some shouting and then Jisung hears the click of the phone being set on speaker mode. “Jisung?” It’s his dad’s voice this time. 

“I wanted to call and tell you that I was awarded a grant for visual art,” Jisung says. “You were generous in paying a year of tuition for me, but I know that I’m going to stay an art major and I’m going to figure out how to pay for the next years, starting with this grant. I just wanted to tell you because I was hoping you would be proud of me - out of thousands of students I was picked for this grant because I’m good at what I do. I got seven thousand dollars of grant money because people believe I’m valuable. I just wanted you guys to say ‘Congratulations, Jisung,’ even if you don’t mean it. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, you know? I’ve only ever wanted you two to say that to me.” Jisung presses his back up against the wall, rubbing at his cheeks to get rid of the tears. “I just got up on stage in front of hundreds of people and spoke. It was a terrible speech because I’ve never done that type of thing before but people saw me. They saw me, they saw the boy who works his ass off and still smiles. I was recognized for the first time in my life and my parents weren’t there to see it.” 

Jisung breaks down this time, chest heaving as he slides down to sit on the floor, crying against his forearm that’s propped up on his knees. “But I’ve realized, even if you were here tonight you could never have been happy for me.” Jisung takes a deep breath. “It was hard for you to ever care for me, wasn’t it. But you don’t have to anymore. You never came to me when I needed you so I won’t come to you when you need me. So yeah,” Jisung’s voice turns to a whisper, his heart breaking. “This is me breaking off ties with you.” 

“Jisung—” 

Jisung hangs up, the phone clattering from his hands to the floor. He feels lightheaded, lost, but then arms are wrapping around him. Minho, as always. 

“Breathe, Sungie. You’ll be okay.” 

“How long have you been listening?” Jisung asks, face pressed up against Minho’s shoulder. 

“For a minute or so,” Minho says. “But you were talking in Korean so I couldn’t understand.” 

“Oh,” Jisung looks up, letting Minho wipe the tears off his cheeks. “I just disowned myself.” 

“Holy shit,” Minho whispers, hands moving to cup Jisung’s face. “Are you okay?” 

Jisung nods, “I feel good, actually. Sad, but relieved? Does that make me a bad person?” 

“It makes you a strong person,” Minho says, smiling. “I’m proud of you. What you said up there on stage was really really good. And the grant - holy shit!” 

Jisung giggles, “I know, right? Seven thousand, I nearly died, I didn’t expect it at all.” 

“You’re amazing, Jisung,” Minho whispers, running a thumb over his cheek. “You must be projecting onto me because I’m really really happy.” 

“Don’t tease me,” Jisung laughs, scooting forward to wrap his arms around Minho’s waist and hide his face in his neck. “But thank you. For everything you’ve done for me so far this year.”

“Ditto,” Minho says, threading his fingers through Jisung’s hair. “I’ve got to go, Sung. It’s my turn to be up on stage.” 

“Okay, I’ll be watching, so you better be good.” Jisung teases, yelping when Minho pulls them both up. 

“I’m nervous,” Minho says with a strained laugh, tugging at the collar of his shirt. 

“Why?” Jisung asks, reaching up to grab his hand, lacing their fingers together instead. 

“I’m nervous because of who’s going to be watching,” Minho says, tapping Jisung’s cheek. 

“Oh,” Jisung blushes at the words. “Don’t be, I’ll be your good luck charm instead.” He looks up at Minho, batting his eyelashes. 

“You’re adorable,” Minho says with a laugh, cupping Jisung’s cheeks and leaning down to press his lips to his forehead. “I’ll look for you.” 

“Oh, yeah, okay,” Jisung whispers, in shock. “Good luck.” 

Minho flashes him a smile before turning and hurrying from the room.

Unlike Jisung, Minho is quite obviously born to be onstage. He’s charismatic and has a massive presence that immediately sucks Jisung in. Jisung’s glad Felix and Hyunjin’s performance was first because he wouldn’t be able to focus on them if they came after Minho Lee dancing in leather pants. 

Minho’s first performance is fast paced and energetic - the bass of the song so loud Jisung can feel it pulse through him. Minho’s eyes flit over the audience, searching, but Jisung is tucked too far in the back for him to see, unable to get closer because of all the people in the way. 

Minho’s second set happens just minutes after the first ends, the loud bass replaced with a track that Jisung finds calming. There aren’t many people in this performance and Jisung can see why. It’s an incredibly complex contemporary piece that is all smooth movements and so...personal. 

Maybe Minho had called him beautiful earlier but Minho was the true beauty, dancing with a fluidity that Jisung thought was impossible. His solo goes by too quickly, Jisung so focused on processing the concentration depicted on his face, the distance making it difficult. 

When it ends Jisung looks around, grabbing a chair that someone had just abandoned, jumping onto it and peering over the top of the audience. Hands on either side of his mouth, Jisung takes a breath and then screams Minho’s name. 

The boy stands up straight from his bow at the shout, eyes searching the crowd until they land on Jisung. A smile takes over his face, one that Jisung can see clearer from his vantage point. 

“You’re amazing!” 

Minho’s laughing now, a sound Jisung wishes he could hear, and then he’s darting forward and jumping off the stage, running down the main aisle to Jisung. 

He skids to a stop in front of him, holding out a hand. “Let’s go?” 

Jisung matches Minho’s grin with his own, taking his hand and jumping down off the chair, his bag he had found backstage bouncing against him. “Let’s go.” 

“You were amazing,” Jisung says when they arrive in the middle of the campus, the winter night chilly around them. 

“You were amazing,” Minho counters, grinning at him. “God, Jisungie, I’m so fucking proud of you.” 

“I know, you only smile like that when you’re happy with me.” Jisung steps forward, cupping Minho’s cheek. Minho’s expression softens further as Jisung runs his thumb under his eye, brushing away some of his smudged eyeliner. His free hand rests against Minho’s chest, over his heart, feeling it pound too quickly. “Focus on me, just for a minute?”

Minho nods wordlessly, grappling for Jisung’s hands when he takes a few steps back. “I look pretty right now, don’t you think?” Jisung cups his cheeks, grinning at Minho. “Backlighting suits me, huh.”

Minho looks past Jisung at the lights spilling out of the theater and then back to him. “Yeah, you do. It does.”

Jisung takes another step back when Minho steps forward. “The day we ran into each other when I was on that date you said I looked good.” Minho nods, taking another step and frowning when Jisung moves away. “And when we went to the pizza parlor you said I looked really good, even though I got your hand covered in paint not five minutes in.”

“You always look good, Jisung.”

Jisung blushes, “That day on the date, I felt like I was someone I’m not. Because I didn’t feel like myself, like an artist. Like a great artist.” Jisung looks away from Minho as his gaze intensifies. “I am a great artist, I know it now. I’m a great artist who eats lucky charms and has a pet fake plant. I’m always covered in paint because when I am I’m being me. When I stayed up all night to work on that mural and was a whole mess when you turned up, that was me. And I just want you to know that if you hang around me still, you’re going to end up with a few ruined shirts because wet paint follows me wherever I go.” Jisung tugs at a piece of his hair, nerves writhing in his chest. “And, uh, I’m gay, very gay, and super gay for you. To clarify, this is me confessing. I like you. In case all of that wasn’t clear.” 

As Jisung prepares himself to step back Minho calls out. “Move a muscle and there will be hell to pay, Han.”

Jisung gulps, glancing up to meet Minho’s eyes, the older boy still a yard away. “In hell do I get to kiss a hot dancing boy?”

Minho rolls his eyes but the corners of his lips turn up. Jisung pulls off his bag and raises a foot, smirking, as Minho’s gaze darkens. “Don’t you dare—”

Jisung turns around and runs, screaming when he hears the sound of shoes against cement just feet behind him. Not seconds later Minho’s arms wrap around his waist, lifting Jisung up and spinning him around, just like he did all those weeks ago on the roof. Jisung is a mess of giggles, only stopping when Minho sets him down, spinning Jisung to face him. 

“Hi,” Jisung whispers, staring up into Minho’s dark eyes. “Am I in hell?”

Minho snorts, but he’s grinning. “Are you?”

Jisung takes a breath, resting one of his hands on Minho’s shoulder and pushing himself up onto his toes, his other hand pressing on the back of Minho’s neck so he can finally, finally, kiss him. 

Jisung melts against Minho as the older boy wraps his arms around Jisung’s waist, kissing Jisung back. Jisung pulls away when he has no more air to breathe and takes a large, unattractive gulp of air but Minho just laughs under his breath, kissing Jisung’s nose. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to confess,” Minho says when Jisung sinks back down and shifts his weight to his heels. Minho raises a hand to brush the hair out of Jisung’s eyes, a sickeningly fond smile on his lips that Jisung loves. 

“Really?” Jisung asks, hardly daring to breathe. 

Minho nods. “I’ve liked you since that first day on the roof. When we met in front of the mural and you were covered in paint, I knew I was in love with you.”

Jisung’s eyes widen, heat coming to his already red cheeks. “You love me?” Minho nods. “I love you too.”

Minho raises an eyebrow, “I thought you liked me.”

Jisung shakes his head. “That was the old me talking. The new me loves you very much.”

Minho laughs, cupping Jisung’s cheek and bending down to peck his lips. “You’re really one of a kind.”

“Oh,” Jisung pulls away, missing Minho’s startled expression, and hurries over to his bag, pulling out a frame. “This is yours.”

“This isn’t the same one,” Minho says when he walks over, eyebrows furrowed as he looks at the charcoal portrait of himself. “I wasn’t smiling in the other one.” Jisung nods. “How did you...I haven’t sat for you a second time.”

“I’ve memorized your face,” Jisung says, hiding his shaking hands behind his back. “It sort of became an unconscious thing, that I would doodle your eyes or nose or whatever. That’s what happened with the mural, I was unconsciously thinking about you, and, yeah.” 

Minho shakes his head, thrusting the frame into Jisung’s hands and then cupping his cheeks, kissing him hard. “What the fuck, Jisung, you’re so fucking adorable,” Minho says between kisses. 

Jisung hides his face in Minho’s neck, “Wait, Minho?”

“Hm?”

“We’re kissing in the middle of campus right after a showcase let out,” Jisung whispers. “How many people are watching right now?”

Minho groans, grabbing the frame from Jisung and stowing it in the younger boy’s bag, and then taking his hand and pulling him in the direction of the dorms. 

“Sorry, I didn’t think—”

“It’s okay,” Jisung giggles, looking at their clasped hands. “Especially because the rumors are true now. Minho Lee is dating the artist dweeb.” Jisung pauses. “Oh, right. Be my boyfriend and then the rumors will be true.”

Minho laughs, squeezing Jisung’s hand. “Okay.”

“It’s going to be so cool going to class on Monday.”

Minho looks over at him, “Why?”

“Because we’re going to be the best power couple on campus,” Jisung explains, grinning. He stops, making Minho stop as well. “Best dancer, hottest guy, coolest person on campus,” he gestures to Minho, “and no longer just self-proclaimed best artist in my year.” He points to himself. “Get it?”

Minho laughs, wrapping an arm around Jisung’s shoulders. “I’m so in love with you.”

“You’re super super gay for me,” Jisung teases. 

“You know it,” Minho says, kissing the side of his head. “Let’s go eat.”

“Lucky charms?”

“Yeah, why not.”

~

“Wait, that time in the dance studio where I offered to repay you, I was going to give you my number but you said you already had it.” 

“So?” 

“ _So_ , you must have thought I was cute and kept my number even after I embarrassed you!” 

“I’d never seen someone do a layout in hot pink flip flops. It was interesting.” 

“You thought I was cute.” 

“No, I thought you were an annoying freshman.” 

“A cute annoying freshman.” 

“You’re still an annoying freshman.” 

“Just admit that you thought I was cute.” 

“No.” 

“Why?” 

“Because it’ll boost your ego.” 

“You’re harsh.” 

“I know.” 

“I love you.” 

“I know that too.” 

“I’m adorable and you love it.” 

“Don’t push it.” 

“I give up, I should’ve thrown that coffee in your face.” 

“Jisungie…” 

“Stop making eyes at me Minho Lee, I will leave.” 

“But you look really cute when you’re angry.” 

“I hate you.” 

“And I love you.” 

“Shut up and kiss me, idiot.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://wasatch-97.tumblr.com/)  
> 
> 
> [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/eclipse.134340/?hl=en)


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